Why Can't We Be Friends?
by Spiritus Scriptor
Summary: Little Kili meets a human girl in the fields outside his home in Ered Luin, and they decide to be friends. Other people, however, are not pleased with this arrangement and Kili learns a difficult lesson-Men and Dwarves cannot be friends. Oneshot.
1. Kili

**Since I'm almost done with my other fic, I thought I'd focus my attention on a little plot bunny that's been hopping around my brain for quite some time. It's probably extremely cliched, but I don't care. **

**And yes, I really did go with that for the title. **

* * *

Summer was just giving way to autumn in the Blue Mountains. It was a truly magical time of year. The leaves were turning all shades of scarlet and gold, there was a crisp nip in the air that meant the colder weather of harvest time was approaching, yet the air was still warm with the heat of summer. It was one of Kili's favorite times of year (he had several, depending on what fun things could be done—having snowball fights with Fili in the winter, or jumping into the pond on a hot summer's day). But it was autumn when Kili was the most quiet, which kept his mother, Dis, extremely happy. He would scoop a pile of leaves together and lie on it, looking up at the trees and the mountains and the sky above him for hours, occasionally falling asleep in a bed of leaves out in the open. Dis or Thorin would find him there, and bring him in and tuck him into bed, the smile still on his face. Poor Kili, Dis would worry sometimes. He was not like other dwarves. He could not be shut inside walls of stone deep within the mountain, never caring whether or not he ever saw the light of day. He thrived on sunlight and wind, delighted in the singing of birds, the way the light shone through the trees, sunsets. It would be a cruel person indeed who took him away from all that. He would die.

And indeed it was one of those days, summer turning to autumn, that Kili was not behaving like a proper dwarf at all. Dis had let him out to play in the fields that separated Thorin's halls—just a village, really—from the village of Men not far away. She had warned him to stay away from the human village, as the humans were distrustful of their dwarf neighbors, and would surely harm him. He merely nodded in understanding before bounding out the door with a basket in his hand. Dis had suggested that he might pick some apples so that she could make a tart. Kili had happily agreed. The promise of sweets after a day of fun—what more could a child want?

Kili skipped down the path that led to the fields bordered on all sides by trees. He knew if he got too close to the human village, horrible things might happen to him. So he stayed close to the borders of Thorin's halls, and, forgetting his basket, gathered up a pile of leaves and leapt into it with a joyful yelp.

"Hello!" called a voice from nearby. Kili looked up. A girl stood in the field near the trees on the adjoining side, a basket of her own half-full of apples. Kili stood up in his leaf pile.

"Hello," he called back.

"That looks fun," said the girl. "But Mama never lets me play. You're lucky." She came closer and waded into the flattened pile of leaves. Upon seeing Kili up close, she exclaimed, "You're a dwarf!"

He laughed at her surprise as she stared. She was taller than him, with fair skin and freckles, and green eyes. She was probably younger, too. He noticed that she had dropped her basket, as her hands were otherwise occupied covering her mouth.

"Kili, at your service, Miss." he said, and bowed. "What is your name?"

"Sarre," she replied, suddenly timid.

"You know, you dropped your basket. Am I that frightening?" Kili grinned menacingly, making a terrible face as he bent to pick up the fallen apples, and handing back the basket.

"Mother says dwarves are wicked swindlers," she said, extending a shaky hand for her basket. "What's a swindler?"

"I don't know." Kili replied.

"Well, I think you're all right." she approved, looking Kili up and down "You're polite anyway. I don't see why everyone thinks dwarves are so bad. One day I got lost in the marketplace, and a dwarf found me and said he'd help me find Mama. He took me back to his stall in the busy part of the market, and told me stories so that I wouldn't be scared. He gave me a toy, too, a little bird whistle. I still have it, though Mama doesn't know." she grinned, proud to share her secret.

"Did the dwarf have a funny hat?" asked Kili.

"Yes!" she laughed. "Very funny!"

"That's Bofur. He's a woodcarver, and a toymaker. Children always stop by his shop to hear his stories, and he doesn't mind telling them. I didn't know he went into the human village, though. No one I know ever goes there, except the very brave ones. They say it's dangerous."

"Dangerous? Why?" Sarre asked curiously, plopping down in the leaves. Kili followed suit nervously, fearing that he'd get in trouble if anyone saw him with a human girl.

"Well, my uncle—he's the leader of our people—says that when he goes into the Man village, he always sees people—starving people—asking for money. He says they will steal money from your pocket, or leap out at you from alleys and try to kill you. A lot of the starving people on the streets are children that no one wants, and it makes him very sad to see them. Dwarves don't have many children, so the few they do have are treasured. They're worth more than all the gold and gems in the world."

Kili had picked up a leaf and twirled the stem between his fingers. He looked away from Sarre and down at the ground. He'd said too much he knew. He'd only just met Sarre and before he knew it, he'd told her more than she should know about dwarves.

"How old are you?" she asked, out of nowhere. Kili knew this was a rude question for anyone to ask, but he decided to answer anyway.

"Ten summers," he replied shyly. Jutting his chin out proudly, he added, "Though I'll be eleven soon."

"Oh," she said nonchalantly. "I'm only eight. I'll be nine in winter."

They sat silently for a while, Sarre drawing her knees to her chest and gazing up at the sky. Kili flopped down on his back, gazing up at the sky. It was beginning to get darker earlier now, and the first stars were visible.

"I love to look at the stars," she said wistfully, looking down at Kili and then sinking to the ground beside him.

"Me, too." he replied, smiling, and showing the space from the tooth he had recently lost.

"I know!" his new friend cried excitedly. "We should meet here, at night, and look for pictures in the stars. Papa says they're there, but I've never been able to see them."

Kili shook his head, rustling the leaves beneath his hair. "No. It would be too dangerous. People would find out, and they'd be angry."

Sarre sat back on her elbows and tossed her light brown hair. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and drew out a small piece of white cloth stitched with blue and red at the edges. "Then here. Take this so you won't forget me."

"Why?" Kili asked, taking the cloth and looking at it curiously.

"Girls always give their handkerchiefs to boys in stories," she shrugged. "So they'll remember them."

Kili nodded at that, and slipped a pewter bead from the end of one of his braids, placing it gently in her hand. "Don't forget me, either." he said solemnly, fixing her green eyes with his deep brown ones.

"Oh, I won't." she smiled. "You're interesting, Kili."

Together they gazed up at the darkening sky, Kili forgetting all about the apples he was supposed to be gathering. He felt Sarre's hand slide into his as the lay side by side, the scent of dry leaves around them carried by the cool breeze. The sky turned from day to sunset to twilight to night. Somewhere in those hours both children had dozed off, and when Kili awoke it was because of someone's boot in his side.

"Wake up! Filth!" a man's gruff voice demanded. Kili winced as the man kicked him again, the pain jolting through his small body. Beside him, he heard Sarre screaming.

"Let go of her!" he shouted at the other man, the one who held Sarre. The man merely reached down and dealt him a smart cuff across the face.

"I'll do no such thing, Dwarf." he said, and spat in Kili's eye for good measure. Kili wiped it away with his sleeve, and stood there, his stomach bottoming out. He felt as though he'd be sick, and dropped down on all fours, about to heave on the ground, when a hand wrenched him up by the back of his tunic and he was slung over the back of the man's shoulder. The strong man told the other to take Sarre home while he dealt with the errant dwarf child.

"Kili!" Sarre shrieked from the man's arms as he carried her away in the opposite direction. She reached out her hand and he just barely grasped her fingers in his before they were torn away from each other.

"Sarre! he called after her. "The stars!" _Look up at the stars, and I will be too. _But he knew, in his heart, that they would never meet again.

She nodded, choking on her tears as the man hurried her away and she disappeared from view behind the stand of trees that bordered the human village.

The man held him roughly over his back as they made their way back to Kili's village. Kili grew dizzier and dizzier, until he thought he would pass out before the man ever found his home. His guts roiled with fear, and he knew that if the man did not put him down soon, he'd be sorry.

"Please, sir, put me down…I'm going to be sick." he begged. He wanted to cry, but he dare not, not in front of this violent stranger.

"I'll not let you down until you're home where you won't trouble us anymore. What do you think you were doing with my girl—asleep with her in the field, _holding her hand?_" he growled.

"Please…please…" the young boy continued to beg. He'd broken out in a cold sweat with the effort to calm himself down, but it was no use.

"Unhand him!" bellowed a fearsome voice. Footsteps approached, and Kili was snatched from the man's arms and held firmly but gently against a sturdy chest. It was Dwalin, his cousin, and he'd only just left his work at the forge, still smelling of smoke and steel. Kili said nothing, but merely watched as they approached his house, the strange man still following in their wake.

"What happened, lad?" Dwalin asked quietly.

"I met a girl…a human girl, in the field. We talked together and then…I guess we fell asleep. She wanted to be my friend."

"Hm," Dwalin merely nodded. "And this man found you?"

"Yes," Kili whimpered. If there was another person not to cry in front of, it was Dwalin.

"Well, here we are." Dwalin replied, meaning to knock on the door. But the man reached from behind him and assaulted the wood with pounding strikes. The door was flung wide, and out stepped Thorin, looking murderous. Upon seeing his cousin and nephew, his expression turned to one of surprise.

"What is the meaning of—Dwalin? Kili? I was just about to go out searching for… What in Durin's name…?" he exclaimed upon seeing the disgruntled duo of Dwalin and a strange Man, and a terrified and shaking Kili in Dwalin's arms. He motioned for Dwalin to go inside and set his quivering burden down. The Man tried to follow, but Thorin blocked the entrance, keeping him on the front step.

"Whatever you've done to terrify my nephew, I'll thank you not to do it again." he snarled at the man, clenching his fists with rage. "I assure you, whatever he's done does not warrant you frightening him so." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kili making for the backdoor, Dwalin following behind.

"He was in the field, with my little girl, and they were asleep together holding each other's hands!" the man shouted, and then, as if to demean Thorin further, crouched down to his height and sneered, "surely you know the implications of that."

But Thorin held his ground. "Sir, my nephew is very young. He does not know of those things yet. If I were to guess correctly, I'd say that they had merely befriended each other. There is no harm in that."

"Don't play stupid, Dwarf. You know as well as I that 'friendship' between our races is frowned upon."

"I do," Thorin conceded. "But a simple reprimand would have been enough. There is no reason for you to scare a child out of his wits."

"Your nephew has no wits," replied the man, without thinking. In an instant, he was on his backside on the dirt path leading to the cottage.

"How dare you?" roared Thorin. "Do you know to and of whom you speak?" he stomped out onto the front step. "You speak to the rightful heir to the throne of Erebor and the village leader, and you speak of a young prince who did not know any better!"

"Well," said the man, stumbling to his feet after the powerful blow that had knocked him backwards, "Perhaps you should teach your young prince some manners."

"That is my business, not yours." he seethed. "Now go back to your village, and let me never see your face at my door again." Slamming the door behind him, he whirled around to be met with Dis.

"Durin's beard," she exclaimed. "What _was _that?"

Thorin sighed heavily, sinking into a chair and rubbing a calloused hand across his face. "Kili met some little human lass in the field today."

"And?" Dis questioned, planting her hands on her hips. "Was that cause enough for—whatever that was?"

"He seemed to think so," Thorin muttered. "Kili and the lass fell asleep together holding hands. The man—her father—thought Kili had…disgraced her."

"Oh," Dis drew a breath. With her next one, she exclaimed, "But he's just a child!"

"I know." From where he sat, Thorin could see Fili's face peeking from the top of the stairs. "Go to bed, Fili." he ordered sternly. With a patter of footsteps, Fili retreated.

"Where is Kili?" asked Dis.

"Out there," Dwalin spoke from the back doorway, jerking his thumb in the direction of the privy. "That bastard scared him sick."

"Oh, dear…" worried Dis, tugging at her braided beard.

"Let him come in when he's ready," said Thorin.

* * *

Kili could hear Thorin and the strange man shouting even from the privy, where, if he were to be honest, he didn't know which end to put on the bench first, he'd been so frightened. Dwalin had brought him a light and left, telling him he'd keep an eye from the backdoor in case the Man tried to attack. Kili was grateful for that, at least, and that he'd kept his distance. As soon as Dwalin had left, he burst into tears. He cried as he retched until there was nothing left in him, and he continued while he voided his churning bowels, and on and on until he had collapsed against the wall, utterly exhausted.

Dis could hear her youngest son's heartbreaking wails even from the house. Thorin had to hold her back from running to him, explaining that the lad needed his privacy. He was right, she knew, but it didn't deter her from longing to wrap her little boy in her arms and tell him everything would be all right.

"He's slowing down now," Thorin noticed after a while. "Perhaps we should check on him."

Dis practically bolted out the door and across the yard to the privy. She could hear Kili sniffling, but it was nothing compared to the ruckus he'd been making earlier.

"Kili?" she knocked on the door softly. "Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"I don't feel well," came the weak moan in reply.

"I know, love. Do you think you could drink some tea?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I'm not going to give it to you in there," she said, trying to make light of the situation.

After a moment the door creaked open and Kili fell headfirst towards the ground, but before he could hit Thorin had caught him and steadied him in his arms. The boy had the perfect imprint of a hand bruised across his cheek. Thorin cursed his nephews attackers internally, but stooped to pick Kili up when his knees buckled.

"Steady there, Kili. Come on. Into the house." He shifted his weight and carried him in, trailing behind Dis. When he entered, he found that Dwalin had left. Just as well, it was going to be a long night.

Dis made some tea for Kili, and Thorin had wrapped him up in a blanket and sat him down at the table. After Kili had finished with the tea and declared he was hungry, Dis ladled out some of that night's stew out and placed it before him. As he took tentative bites, Thorin began to question him about that day's events.

"What exactly did happen today, Kili?" he asked calmly. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me."

Kili gazed into his bowl, unwilling to look at his uncle. "I met Sarre. We talked."

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing much. She had a lot of questions about dwarves. She says her mama thinks we're 'evil swindlers', but I don't know what that is."

Thorin smirked at that and urged his nephew to continue.

"I told her…I told her that it made you sad to see the hungry children in the human village. She said I was very polite and I don't think she thinks dwarves are as bad as everyone else there does. Oh, and we talked about stars, and the pictures that they make. The constel…constel…"

"Consellations," Thorin said.

Dis entered the room and took a seat next to her son. "Thorin, it was a harmless conversation. Why was the man so angry?"

"We fell asleep," Kili continued bravely. "And then two men found us. One took her away, and the other one brought me here." He added bravely, looking proudly up at Thorin, that he did not cry until he was back home and in private. He would try not to be frightened or cry ever again, he insisted.

"That's a tall order, Kili. You can't just…stop feeling things. It's fine, just as long as you realize there's a time and place." Thorin gazed sadly down at his nephew, remembering all the times he'd felt lonely and sad and scared and had to hide it. It would come with age, he knew, but Kili was so small yet.

"There is?" Kili questioned.

"Yes. But listen to me, Kili." he said, taking his small hands. "You must never see this girl again." The look of heartbreak on the boy's face was almost more than he could bear.

"But _why_?" he wailed.

"Because…." Thorin began, but Dis took over, wrapping her arm around Kili, who looked absolutely devastated.

"I know you want to be friends with her," she explained. "But…dwarves and Men generally can't be friends, especially children. They grow differently. She will grow up faster than you, my love. By the time you are a full adult, she may very well be dead."

"She…she will?" Kili sniffled into his mother's arm.

"Very likely. At any rate, she will be very old. Humans don't live as long as we do."

"Oh," said Kili simply.

A while later, when Thorin took him up to bed, his heart sank at the thought of the harsh truth his young nephew had learned that day. Dis's explanation had been enough; he didn't need to know the real reason why friendships between dwarves and men were rare. Hopefully someday it would not bother the lad, but he knew that Kili's gentle soul would be damaged by this for a long time.

* * *

Kili was nearing his sixty-third year when one day, Dis had told him to go through his things and find a few items he didn't need anymore, she would be giving them to a poor family who had just arrived in town.

He was rummaging through the trunk at the foot of his bed. So far he'd found a few tunics and pairs of trousers that no longer fit, but nothing much beyond that that would be of any use. He was nearing the bottom of the trunk when he came across a swatch of fabric, one white but yellowed with age, edged in red and blue. Taking it out, he realized what in was and instantly, his heart broke afresh. He remembered placing it there so many years ago, on a late summer's day when it was still new and white.

_She'd be almost as old as me now,_ he thought. _An old woman. Perhaps a grandmother. Or perhaps…perhaps…_

"What's that? Fili asked offhandedly, sprawled across his bed the wrong way, his feet against the headboard.

"Nothing," Kili replied quickly, putting it back.

_The stars, Sarre…the stars. Oh Mahal, I'm so sorry…_

* * *

**Why do I enjoy making the Durins miserable?**

**I love reviews! Reviews make me happy. Apparently making people miserable also makes me happy, but that's beside the point. **


	2. Sarre

**Several people have asked me for another chapter, so here it is. **

* * *

"No, Edwin! Put me down!" Sarre shrieked in her brother's ear as he carried her back towards home. "He didn't do anything bad!"

"Shut up, you little twit! And stop screaming before I go deaf!" The elder demanded, shaking the small girl he held in the crook of his arm. He adjusted his hold on her so that she was slung over his back like a sack of potatoes, and held her fast as she began to kick him.

"Put me down!" she shrieked, going red in the face—not that he could see—as she battered his back with her tiny fists.

"Stop that, I said, or I'll tell Mother to take the broom to you when we get back!"

That silenced Sarre immediately. She knew he would tell her anyway, about the dwarf boy, and then she'd get the walloping of her life. She knew she hadn't been wanted, her mother and father had told her enough times. She was a full nine years younger than Edwin, the favored firstborn son. She had a sister, Alys, who was fifteen and did whatever their parents told her to do, including, when they were younger, taking beatings for her brother. Between Alys and Sarre, both of them had taken more beatings for their ill-behaved elder brother than they could count.

They had reached home, Edwin shoving open the door, still toting the now-silent Sarre over his back.

"Mother," he gloated, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "You'll never believe where we found our little Sarre—out in the field, fast asleep next to a dwarf boy!"

The mother, a perpetually disgruntled and red-faced woman, yanked Sarre from her brother's back by her apron strings. Setting her youngest daughter down rather roughly on the dirt floor, she asked, "Is that so?"

"Yes, Mama." Sarre admitted, her eyes never straying from her feet. She wanted desperately to warm herself by the hearth, for she had become quite cold with fear, but she dare not. She knew what was coming. Sure enough, before she could even react, the dirty straw of the broom had struck her flat in the face and sent her reeling back into a barrel by the fire.

"A dwarf, Sarre?" her mother roared. "A _dwarf_? You know what dwarves are, you miserable girl, don't you? Liars! Thieves! Dirty war mongers!"

"But…" Sarre began, determined not to cry. Tears would only get her a more severe beating. "He was only a boy. Smaller than me, even." She prayed her mother would see that Kili had meant no harm, being a child himself. But she did not.

"_Only a boy?_" bellowed the mother. "By the Valar, when your father gets home! I hope he kills that little dwarfling and leaves his guts at his parents' front door!"

"No!" Sarre cried, for which she got another whack to the face with a broom. Edwin just stood there, grinning like the smug idiot that he was. He was enjoying this.

Sarre was sent to her room without supper, and locked there. Alys was already in bed when Sarre crawled in next to her, sniffling. Her noise must have been enough to wake her, because in the next moment, she felt an arm around her shoulder.

"What happened?" Alys questioned her younger sister.

"I met a boy today…a dwarf boy. Edwin and Papa found us. Edwin brought me back, and Mama walloped me. Papa is probably killing Kili right now." she sobbed.

"Was Kili nice?"

"Yes, very. It was nice to have a friend, even if it was only for one day. I'll remember him forever." She smiled shakily, her poor broken spirit clinging to the brief friendship she and Kili had shared.

Just then, the door was thrust open and Sarre yanked out of bed by the back of her collar. Her Papa was home. He told Alys to go downstairs while he "dealt with" Sarre. His fist came down on the back of her little head, and there was blackness.

When she awoke, the beating was over. She found she could not see out of her right eye. Upon feeling it, she found it to be swollen shut. Her nose had been bloodied, she was missing three teeth that had not been loose, her lip had been split, and she ached. Everywhere. It pained her to breathe.

Alys was not in the room. She was all alone. Pushing a rickety chair up to the window in the roof, she opened it and looked through her good eye up at the night sky. A bitter chill had descended upon the air, and she let it weave its cold embrace around her. _The stars!_ Kili had shouted to her as they were forcibly parted,

"The stars…" she murmured through her cracked and bloody teeth. Kili would be looking at them too, wherever he was. She hoped he had a loving, forgiving family, and that he was tucked safe and warm in a bed, dreaming sweet dreams as she could not.

When she could bear the cold no longer, she closed the window, climbed into bed, and pulled the blankets around her, gazing at the stars through the thick glass as her eyes spilled the tears she had kept in all this time.

* * *

Sarre's family hid her from the neighbors, claiming their daughter was ill. And indeed she may as well have been. For two weeks she could not move from the bed, it pained her so, and her mother brought her meals, derisively referring to Sarre as "her majesty" and telling her that, thanks to her foolishness, Alys had to do all of her chores in addition to her own. Eventually she gave up on Sarre and it was up to Alys to make sure she was fed.

Sarre's wounds scarred her face permanently, and now she hoped that she and Kili would never meet just because he might see what had become of her. But still every night she would open the window, gaze at the stars, and hope that Kili was better off than she was.

For Sarre, it was back to the daily work of starting the fire in the morning, scouring the pots and pans, and, if she behaved well enough, going to market with Alys. It was on one of these occasions that she saw the dwarf with the funny hat. What had Kili said his name was? Bofur!

Sarre began to make a plan. Someday when Alys was busy, she would sneak away to Bofur's stall and ask if he could get a message to Kili. Not anything drastic, merely to let him know that she hadn't forgotten about him. She dared not go in search of him herself, lest she be killed. The last time had been bad enough.

It just so happened that the next time she went to the market had been on her birthday. It was the perfect opportunity. Bofur sold toys, after all, and she'd behaved so well these past few months. Surely Alys would not begrudge her a small trinket?

"Alys," she said, walking beside her sister. She'd kept her silence and been so very good. Perhaps, just perhaps…

"What?" Alys snapped. She hated market days.

"It's my birthday," she continued shyly, her cold fingers beginning to tremble in their mittens. "I was wondering if I could get a toy." She pointed at the display of cunningly carved wooden horses and knights, and even little dolls.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Alys replied, pressing a coin into Sarre's mittened hand. "Just—don't tell Mother or Papa, all right?"

Sarre nodded in agreement, and skittered across the mud and ice to Bofur's stand.

"Hello, lass." Bofur smiled at her. "I remember you—I gave you the bird whistle, right?"

Sarre nodded happily, then, placing her little hands on the counter, she stood on tiptoes and peeked over, dropping her coin on the wood with a thunk.

"Mr. Bofur—do you know Kili?"

Bofur looked taken aback that she knew his name, but in an instant his surprise was gone and he smiled at her again. "Aye, that I do. What would a young miss such as yourself be wantin' with a scoundrel like Kili?"

"Can you tell him that Sarre says hello, and that I haven't forgotten him?" she asked, sliding the coin across the counter.

"You don't need to pay me to deliver a message, missy." the dwarf replied amiably. "I'll be sure to tell him."

Sarre merely smiled—she was struck speechless by his kindness.

"See anything that strikes your fancy?" he asked. Sarre stared at the array of toys, some painted, some not. She stood there for a few moments before Bofur took down something from the shelf—a doll, with a pretty blue dress and apron made of real cloth, and holding a tiny, but detailed, basket full of brightly colored cloth flowers. Sarre's eyes lit up as she handed over the coin.

"Thank you, sir." she said. "It's the best birthday present I've ever had."

"Oh, it's your birthday is it?" he said offhandedly. "Well, in that case, I think you'd better keep that. Get something to warm you up." he winked, handing her the coin and the doll.

"Thank you!" she beamed. It was the first she had truly smiled in a long time.

* * *

With the coin she was able to get a considerably large bag of roasted chestnuts. Alys was probably home by now, and so, with chestnuts in hand and her new doll nestled in the crook of her arm, she started slowly back home, knowing her fun would end once she stepped through the door.

But it ended sooner even than that. Edwin and their mother greeted her at the door.

"Well," Edwin leered. "Back late are we? And what's all this?" Before Sarre could react, he plucked her doll up by one of its jointed arms. "Got a little bit carried away did we?" with a mocking laugh, he flung the doll into a puddle of slush in the road. Sarre did nothing but stand there and watch him destroy her happiness.

"If you prefer the company of dwarves so much," screamed her mother, "Maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a home with one of them!"

"But Mama, I didn't…" Sarre pleaded. But before she could finish, the door was slammed in her face, and the only home she'd ever known—however little it was worth—was gone.

Sarre retrieved her doll from the road. Thankfully, it had only gotten a little muddy, and she cleaned it as best she could in the snow before tucking it under her arm and heading back to the marketplace. Perhaps Bofur knew of someone who would be willing to take her in.

But when she arrived there, the marketplace had already packed up and gone. She'd have to wait another week.

* * *

Sarre just barely got by, begging for scraps from the old baker who often took pity on homeless children, and the town seamstress had given her an old woolen shawl to keep her warm, but that was the only kindness she received. She could hardly wait for market day.

When the day came at last, Sarre crawled out of the empty barrel she had made her sleeping-place early that morning and went directly to Bofur's stand.

"Hello there, lassie! I didn't get the chance to tell Kili, but I…" he began, when he saw her approach. But when she drew nearer, his expression changed to one of concern. "You look terrible."

"My mother threw me out," she said tiredly. "Last week."

"You mean you've been livin' on the street for a week?" he asked incredulously. She nodded. It was about the only thing she could do anymore.

"She said if I prefer the company of dwarves so much, I should find a home with one. You wouldn't know if…" she trailed off hopefully.

"Oh, I might be able to think of someone," he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. It might take some persuading, but if he made a good enough case, Thorin might allow her to stay. He'd enjoy her company, and Bombur would be delighted to fatten her up. Bifur…well, Bifur would take some explaining, to and about, but he couldn't see him being too much of a problem.

"Oh, that would be wonderful!" she cried, clapping her hands with glee.

"But for now, how about you help me for the day?" he asked, indicating that she should come behind the counter. She happily complied, and he gave up his seat to the tired child. He was pleased to see that she still had the doll.

Sarre was a tremendous help to him. Though she was weak, she greeted what few customers they had with a smile and a pleasant word, though everyone who stopped by looked disdainfully at the human child in the company of a dwarf man. She didn't seem to notice or care, and after a while, neither did Bofur. When it was nearing the slow part of the day, Bofur gave her money enough for some bread and cheese, which she insisted on sharing with him. In return for her generosity, he told her fantastic tales of brave knights going to slay dragons and rescue fair maidens. Any mention of dragons made dwarves ill at ease, so he was happy to finally have someone to tell these stories to.

When at last the sky was growing dark, Bofur was sad to pack up his wares and leave his new charge, if only for a while. He wished he could take her with him, but he dare not. Dwarves were wary of Men, and even bringing a child into their village would raise suspicion. He needed to clear it with Thorin first.

"I shouldn't be long," he promised. "I'll be back tonight. I need to make sure the king approves. Since you're a friend of his nephew, it shouldn't be too hard."

She only smiled in reply, such was her joy at having a home. And with that, Bofur trudged off to speak to Thorin.

* * *

"Absolutely not."

"But Thorin, she has nowhere to go. She's starving." Bofur pleaded with the leader. "She's more than willing to work, if you'd like to…"

"No. I'll have no more talk of this," Thorin barked. "Are you out of your senses? If any of us were to harbor a human child, the entire Man village would have our heads, not to mention the questions it would raise here. You'd be putting us all in great danger."

"Your Majesty, please…" Bofur was grasping at straws. How could he turn Thorin's head? Dwarves were notoriously stubborn, but Thorin was by far the most stubborn of all.

"Out of the question," Thorin spoke between gritted teeth. "That's final."

Bofur nodded and made his retreat. He knew it was no use arguing with Thorin. He'd just have to do the best he could to keep his little lass well from a distance.

By the time he reached home, the snow had picked up to a full blizzard. He could barely see. He hoped Sarre was all right for now, and that she'd found someplace warm to stay. To blazes with Thorin's protests, if he had to bring her back and hide her, so he would. A sweet child like her should not be left starving in the streets.

He finally made it to what he hoped was his own front door, and walked in, carrying a gust of cold air and snow behind him.

"Steady there," said Bombur from his place in the kitchen, where he always seemed to be. "Don't bring too much of that in with you."

Bifur looked up from his whittling and grunted in acknowledgment. Bofur sat down at the table across from him and beat the snow from his hat on the back of the chair.

"I'm not staying for long, just long enough to warm up." he said, as Bombur handed him a mug of ale.

"You can't go back out in this!" exclaimed Bombur. As if to prove his point, the wind whistled ferociously around the eaves.

"I have to," argued Bofur, gripping the mug in both hands. "There's a lass in the human village out in this right now, I'd wager. She helped me today at the market. Says her mother threw her out. She's starving, lad. I have to get her. Thorin didn't approve of course, but hang his opinion. I'm bringing her back here."

Bifur's head shot up as his wild gaze fixed upon his cousin as he blurted out his protestations in Khuzdul. Bombur had turned into a blathering fool.

"You can't just…a _human_ girl? Here? I won't have it! If Thorin were to find…"

"If I have to hide her, so I will. At least until I can find a better situation for her. I can't just _ignore _this, you know." He muttered, peering into the contents of his mug, but not drinking any.

"That soft heart of yours is going to get us all in trouble someday," Bombur sighed. "You feel responsible for every waif you come across."

"Aye, perhaps. But I know what this particular waif has been through."

At that, Bombur directed Bifur to fetch a lantern, and he heaved himself up from the table and wandered over to the hearth where fresh rolls were cooling on a tray. He gathered up four of them and tied them into a sack.

"Here," he said, handing the bundle to his brother. "Some apple buns. For the lass, when you find her."

Bofur smiled and took it just as Bifur retuned with a lantern. Tucking the bundle of rolls under his arm, he pulled his hood up over his hat and headed out into the ill-tempered weather.

It was in the middle of the night that Bofur had finally gotten back to the human village, and he could not see an inch in front of his face, so thick was the snow. It now drifted in piles up to his knees. He didn't know how he'd ever find Sarre in this weather. His hand had all but frozen around the lantern handle, and the dim light it provided didn't do much good against the thick blanket of white amid the dark sky. It was a good thing he hadn't brought a torch, it would have blown out as soon as he stepped out the door.

He dared not call out for her for fear of waking anyone. It was the dead of night by now, and he didn't see a single light in any of the windows.

Finally, in a narrow alleyway between the butcher's and the smithy, his light glanced over an overturned barrel half-buried in the snow, with a little head poking out of it. Had the barrel opening been facing another way, he wouldn't have seen her at all.

"Sarre!" he called, just loudly enough to make himself heard over the roaring wind. But she did not hear him, of course she didn't. He drew closer to her and called again. Nothing.

He waded through the snow, and setting his lantern down, knelt beside the barrel, shaking her gently. "Sarre, wake up! I'm taking you home, and my brother gave me some apple buns for you…"

But when he dug her out of the snow, her head lolled heavily to one side as he pulled her out. She had been curled in on herself, the doll clutched to her chest, and she was as cold as the snow she'd been covered with.

His little lass had frozen to death.

* * *

**Well, wasn't that just beautifully tragic?**

**Please review!**


	3. Bitter Truths

**Here be the final installment in my little mini-story. This is it. The end. **

**Hope you enjoyed :)**

* * *

"Mother," Kili spoke up suddenly. He'd been unusually quiet all evening. "Do you remember if I ever had a human friend? A girl?"

Dis's spoon fell to her plate with a clatter as she looked up at him, her face gone completely white. "Why do you ask?" she questioned. It had been fifty years and then some. She didn't expect him to remember. From across the table, Thorin gave her a warning glance.

"I found something today, in my trunk. You told me to look for things to give away, and I found something that…that she gave me." he stammered quickly, eyes now fixed on his plate. Next to him, Fili shifted uncomfortably. He remembered the night his brother had come home badly beaten by some human brute. He'd stayed up with him all night, holding him close as he shook with silent sobs.

"What was it that she gave you?" Thorin grumbled.

"Her handkerchief," replied Kili, without thinking. Fili snorted into his potatoes. "What?" asked Kili, slighted.

"Her _handkerchief_?" Fili crowed derisively. "She must have been quite the damsel!"

"Shut up!"

"Boys," Dis warned. "Stop this, now."

Thorin's fist clenched around his knife, and his face reddened more the longer the discussion continued. He knew, and Dis knew…he could only hope she wouldn't tell him, but he didn't speak up for fear that Kili would pester him. He was so sensitive sometimes...the last thing Thorin wanted was to hurt him.

"Kili," she continued. "Yes. You did have a little friend…sort of. You only saw her once. Her father found you both in the field and brought you home—rather roughly, if I remember correctly."

Kili's stomach dropped at the memory. He remembered. All too well.

"If you really want to know anything, I think Bofur knew her rather better. She helped him at the market once in a while."

"Dis," Thorin grumbled.

"Thorin, it's been fifty years."

"Even so, it was _inexcusable_."

"Would either of you mind telling me just _what_ it is you're talking about?" blurted Kili. Secrets irked him in a way that no one, not even Fili, understood.

"Bofur was going to adopt her." said Dis

"_What_?"

"Mahal, Kili, why do you even care?" asked Fili, utterly bewildered.

"Because…because….I don't know!" Kili exclaimed. He knew he was overreacting. But though he'd only met her once, there remained a part of him that was somehow connected to her, wondered what she was doing. If Bofur had meant to adopt her, what must that have meant? Was she all right now? Where was she?

"If you really must know," Thorin growled, "You should ask Bofur. Just…don't go pestering him."

"I won't."

* * *

"Mr. Bofur!" Kili called, as he passed the entrance to the mines a few days later. "I have something I need to ask you."

"Well, whatever it is, can we discuss it over a mug of ale?" asked Bofur, leaning on the handle of his pickaxe. "I'm parched."

"Of course," he agreed.

He followed Bofur back to his house, where Bombur sat at the kitchen table with a mug of his own. He must have just gotten back from the mines himself; his tools and satchel were thrown carelessly across the back of a chair.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, sitting up at attention. "I didn't know we were expecting guests! How are you, Fili?"

"Just fine, thank you, Bombur. Except…I'm Kili."

Bombur was immediately flustered. "Of course, of course! I'm always forgetting!"

"Kili has something he needs to ask me," explained Bofur. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get us some ale? We can't let you drink all of it, now can we, Kili?"

"Nope," Kili grinned as Bombur heaved himself out of his chair and grabbed two mugs in one hand, holding them under the spigot of an ale keg. Shoving them across the table, he settled himself back into his seat next to Bofur. Kili sat across from them and eyed Bombur uneasily. But it was quite clear he wasn't moving, so he began.

"Bofur, do you remember seeing a little girl in the human village?" he asked. "Her name was Sarre. Thorin told me that you were going to…adopt her."

Bofur stroked his long moustache in wistful thought for a moment, puffing away on his pipe. When at last he spoke, his tone was sad. "Aye. I remember her. She was the lass who came around asking for you."

The young dwarf was incredulous. "She asked about me?"

"Oh, aye." The other said offhandedly, and then almost instantly his expression changed to a grave one. "But Kili…are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes," he replied, almost before Bofur had finished his sentence. Beside him, Bombur sighed heavily.

"You might want to take a sip of that ale, lad." he muttered.

Kili did as he was told. "Is it really that bad?"

"Aye…and then some."

"Well, I'm ready to hear it. Mahal knows Mother and Thorin won't tell me anything."

Bofur sighed. "Well…the first time I saw her, it was winter. She was but a skinny wee thing. Asked that I would say hello to you for her…but I never did, should Thorin overhear. It was her birthday that day, and I gave her a doll. A week later she came back, looking half-starved, saying her Ma had kicked her out for 'preferring the company of dwarves' or some such nonsense. I let her help me that day, and I was going to take her back with me—oh, she was a delightful little thing, really. But I needed to clear it with Thorin first, of course…" he stopped suddenly ."

"And?" Kili prodded. He'd gotten this far. He needed to know why Sarre had not come to stay in his village.

"Kili, your uncle…"

"I know he can be hardheaded at times," Kili said, his gaze never shifting. He was only barely aware how uncomfortable his companion was.

"He refused. He'd have none of it. I went to your house that night to ask him—you and Fili were asleep, I'd expect, and he flat out said no. By the time I left, there was a mighty blizzard started."

"You came back here half out of your wits with the tale of some little lass," Bombur chimed in. "Bifur and I thought you'd gone mad. But we sent you off with a lantern and some food for her…"

"Apple buns. I remember the smell of them, knowing she'd be so happy to have warm food in her belly...but when I found her…" he drew a shuddering breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She died, Kili. She froze to death. She'd been sleeping in a _barrel_, outside the _butcher's_…" He looked up at the still-impressionable young dwarf, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Oh, Mahal…" Kili gasped, unconsciously drawing his hand to his mouth.

"It's awful, how they treat children in that place…" Bofur muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kili's heart was broken, seeing his friend in such pain. Sarre had meant a great deal to him, too. But there was one last thing he had to know. "What happened to her…to her body?"

"I buried her." Bofur sniffed wetly as his brother drew an arm about his shoulders. "I took her out of that barrel, out to the mines, and covered her in snow while I went back for a shovel. The ground was rock hard, but the mines had been up and running all winter and were a bit easier to dig. So I buried her in a little passage we'd passed over, put a mark in the stone above her grave. Said a few words, for as much as I knew her…and then I never mentioned anything of it again…until today."

Kili was dumbfounded. All he could do was clasp Bofur's hands in his and mumble an apologetic thanks.

* * *

At dusk a few days later, Kili arrived in the mines where Bofur had said he'd buried Sarre. He'd gotten away with the excuse of an errand to run for a friend, against Dis's protestations of "At _this_ hour?" and had finally snuck away with a small lantern under his coat.

The passage itself had proved difficult to find, but not the grave. Glancing around the walls of the cavern, the lantern light picked up something he wished he hadn't seen. It had been winter those many years ago when Bofur had dug the grave, and even in the mines where the soil was worked more regularly, it must have proved difficult and so the grave was shallow. Fifty years of erosion had made it even more so, and out of the soil poked bony little fingers clasped around the dirty, tattered fragments of what must once have been a doll. Kili drew his lantern near, but then recoiled in horror at the realization of what he gazed upon. He knelt down and meant to touch them, but when his warm fingers were mere inches from the ones that had been nothing but cold bone for many years, he drew back, and instead gathered up some loose soil and covered them gently.

_Oh, Sarre,_ he thought,as a tear made its way down his cheek. _Had you been alive I would have gladly held your hands. But I can't…not like this. Forgive me. _

He knelt there for a while, drawing shuddering gasps that at last yielded an unbroken sob that echoed eerily through the long-abandoned passageways. At long last he stood, and, taking a knife from his boot, carved her name, in runes, just below the notch that Bofur had made in the stone decades ago. He traced the carvings with his fingers, and then stood back. Head bent over the little mound of dirt, he began to speak.

"I know I'm quite late to do this, but this poor child has only had one other person speak for her after she could not. Though I did not know her well or long, it is my fondest hope that she is at rest, and that the journey to the halls of her fathers was an untroubled one, as she did not have an untroubled journey in life. Rest well, Sarre, and wherever you may be, take comfort in knowing there are still those who care for you."

He hadn't realized he'd been crying until a tear fell from the bridge of his nose onto the grave, dampening one small spot. With that, he turned away, heading for the crisp night air of early spring. As he crossed the field, he stopped at the place where he and Sarre had met, and suddenly felt a pang of immeasurable sadness. He wished he could go back to when he was a child, on a late summer's day just turning to autumn, and have not a care in the world…

* * *

**Well, that was a bit more morbid than I'd originally planned. **

**Poor Kili... :(**

**Reviews= hugs for the poor thing**


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